


Less Than Happy and More Than Ready (To Meet)

by i_amthecosmos



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cutting, Emotional Abuse, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Mental Illness, handjobs, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 19:25:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amthecosmos/pseuds/i_amthecosmos
Summary: Zayn sees Harry leaning against a wall, razor blade in his hand.





	Less Than Happy and More Than Ready (To Meet)

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from a list of h/c prompts. This one was "Hey, don't do that, you'll hurt yourself."

Zayn was walking out of the bar on a cool, clear night. He didn’t drink this time, just went to dance and flirt with girls. He was halfway to his apartment when he saw a lanky young man leaning against the wall. He had a razor blade, and was drawing it over his skin.

“Hey.” Before Zayn knew it, he had jogged over. “Hey, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.”

The man looked at him for a second, big green eyes shining in the lamplight. He didn’t let go of the razor. “Little cuts,” he sing-songed. “Little cuts, not deep cuts.” He put the razor against his skin, and Zayn saw that so far, he hadn’t pushed deep enough to make his arm bleed. 

“I don’t care, it’ll still hurt. Give me the razor blade.” He put his hand out, and the other boy just stared at him. “Hey,” Zayn said, deciding to change tactics. “Let’s go somewhere, get a cup of tea. Do you want to talk to someone?” 

The man still said nothing. He was beautiful, with pouty lips and curly hair. Why he was standing on a street at one in the morning about to cut himself, Zayn couldn’t guess. “My name’s Zayn,” he said. “I could use some company, come with me. There’s a cafe not far from here.” 

“I’m Harry,” he said. He put the razor blade in his pocket. “You can’t have it,” he said. “It’s mine. Where’s the diner?”

“It’s down here, come on. My treat.” Zayn walked towards it, and Harry followed slightly behind him. Zayn tried not to look back to make sure Harry wouldn’t just leave. Finally, they found the cafe. 

“I don’t have much money right now,” Harry said when they sat in a booth.

“I can pay for tea. Food too, if you want any. Are you hungry?” Harry shrugged. His face wasn’t giving anything away either. “Okay. I’m ordering some eggs.” 

“Did you drink a lot?” Zayn looked up at Harry. “I saw you come out of the club.”

“I didn’t drink,” he said. “I just went there for the dancing.” Harry nodded, and a waitress came over. They both ordered tea, and Zayn got a plate of eggs and toast. “Do you want anything?”

Harry looked at the waitress. “Do you have soup?” The waitress nodded. “A bowl of soup, whatever you have.” Harry looked down at the booth. “Thank you. I haven’t eaten much today. I can probably keep that down.” 

“Can I ask what’s going on with you tonight?” Zayn didn’t want to pry, but maybe he should ask. 

Harry shrugged. “Got kicked out of my own apartment. My name’s on the lease, I can get them out most likely, but for now I had nowhere to go.” Harry traced a pattern on the booth top with his finger. 

“Who threw you out?” Zayn thought about his own apartment, and how glad and lucky he was to have space that was all his. But most people had to share space. “Was it your roommate?”

“My ex-boyfriend,” Harry said, not looking up. “We broke up two months ago, and I let him live there because he didn’t have anywhere to go. So then he moved his new boyfriend in there, who I’m sure he cheated on me with.”

“Fuck,” Zayn said in sympathy. An older man looked over, but said nothing. 

“Yeah. And they started ganging up on me, like. Telling me I was ugly and I wouldn’t find anyone. And tonight they just threw me out. Said they’d sell all my stuff.” 

“Bastards. You better get back there early and see your landlord,” Zayn said. Their tea came, and Zayn added milk to his. Harry sipped his plain.

“I almost want to let them have it, but it’ll ruin my credit,” he said. “I was paying for nearly everything. I just never want to see them again.” 

“Let your landlord handle most of it, then,” Zayn said. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I don’t know what else to say.” 

“I guess letting them stay was stupid,” Harry said. His sleeve rode up, and Zayn could see the red lines on his wrist in the bright diner light. It made him a little queasy. Harry saw him looking and pushed his sleeve back down. “Sorry. Most people don’t like to see that.”

“I guess not,” Zayn said. This Harry was good looking, and sweet. Why was he doing this? It was probably none of his business. “Do the scars stay long?” 

“They can, depends on how deep I cut,” Harry gave him a tired smile. “I don’t know where I’m ending up tonight. I might just sleep on a park bench.” 

“It’s not worth it. I did that once while I was in art school. I wound up getting thrown in jail for the night.” Harry grimaced. “And if they see your scars, they might think you’re suicidal and then you’ll be in the hospital for observation for three days.”

“Also very bad.” The waitress came with their food, and Harry said “Thank you, this looks good.” It actually just looked like canned chicken noodle, but Harry spooned some up. Zayn ate his eggs and toast. 

They ate silently for a few minutes, then Harry pushed his empty bowl to the side. “So,” he said. “You went out tonight just to dance? And left alone?”

“Yes.” Zayn wondered where he was going with this. 

“You didn’t want to pick up?” Zayn shook his head. “Any reason why not?”

“It’s a fun place to go,” Zayn said, sipping his coffee. “I didn’t want to pick up, just flirt and dance with girls.” It was really all he liked to do with girls, but he wasn’t going to say that. “I’ve got work tomorrow anyway. I’m working for an art gallery.”

“What do you do there?” 

“Nothing very creative, except for when I plan events. It’s mostly just office work. I still like it, though. I see a lot of great art.” Harry nodded. “What about you?”

Harry sighed. “I work for my parents. I worked in a bakery for a while, but I couldn’t make enough money. So I’m working for my stepfather. He’s a good boss, I’ll say that. But it’s not what I wanted to do.” 

“What did you want to do?” Harry might be a jumble of problems, but he was attractive and seemed smart. He wasn’t flirting, anyway, Zayn told himself. He really wanted to know. 

“I wanted to sing. I had a band in school. But then life took over and...” He shook his head. “I just haven’t lived up to my own expectations. I probably won’t.” Harry signed, and dragged his finger over the table. “What about you? You probably wanted to be an artist.”

“I am. I just don’t get paid all that much for it. I can still do it on my own, so I do.” The waitress brought their check, and Zayn paid for it. “I know you don’t know me, but you can crash on my couch if you want to. It’s up to you.”

“Suppose I don’t have much of a choice.” Harry looked closed off and wary, but he agreed all the same. “Let’s go, I guess.” They walked the rest of the way to Zayn’s place, which was in a solid little group of apartments near his job. 

Zayn let them in, and Harry took off his jacket and shirt. Zayn had to avert his eyes-he had scars on his stomach as well. Harry got him, and glowered. “You only stopped me once,” he said. “I’ll do it again, after we part company.” 

“I figured,” Zayn said, too tired to fight with him. Harry had been prickly and combative ever since he agreed to come to Zayn’s. Zayn realized that he might be expecting Zayn to take advantage of him. “Harry...I’m not going to hurt you. Here, I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket. Then I’ll go right to bed.” He went to his linen closet to see if he had any extras. 

When he got back, Harry was standing in his living room looking moody. “Here you are,” Zayn said. “If you want anything to drink, water and soda’s in the fridge. I don’t have any alcohol.” 

“Are you Muslim?” Zayn shrugged. “You don’t know?”

“My family is. Five years ago I would have said yes. I still don’t like to drink alcohol all that much. Some things stay with you I guess.” Zayn yawned. “I’m gonna clean up and go to bed. Get comfortable on my couch.” Then he left the room. 

He brushed his teeth and went to bed. He didn’t hear much of anything from the front room. Harry must have just gone to bed. Zayn stripped to his boxer-briefs and curled up on his side. 

“Hey.” 

Zayn opened his eyes. “Harry?” It was still dark out. Harry was perched on his bed, kneeling and staring in his face. “I’ve got to be at work in a few hours. Why are you here?”

Harry kept staring at him. “Harry, you’re starting to scare me,” Zayn said, keeping his voice calm. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ll fight back if I need to. Do you understand?” 

“Won’t hurt you,” he said, and his voice had the same dreamy quality it did when he was holding the razor. “I just wanted to see you.”

This was bizarre. “I need to sleep, I have work tomorrow. You probably do too. Go to the couch please?” Zayn was scared, but he tried to keep the tremble out of his voice. “Harry, please.”

Harry looked unfocused and strange, but he got off the bed and left the room without another word. Zayn got up after he was sure Harry was gone, and locked his bedroom door. 

When he woke up again, he went to the living room to find Harry gone and his front door open a crack. He went to close it, and found a sign on the floor near the door. 

_Zayn, I’m sorry about last night,_ It said. _I do some strange stuff sometimes, I think I need help. I only meant to thank you but it came out wrong. Gone to my place to get the landlord to kick them out. Maybe the police. Thank you._

Zayn took a deep breath. Harry had left as suddenly as he came. Zayn needed a tea, badly. 

For a week, Zayn went about his business. He did his job, went dancing, and then went home alone. Nice and orderly, the way he liked it. No drama, nothing to see here. 

Then at the start of the next week, he saw Harry slumped in front of his door. 

Zayn repressed the fear in his guts. “Hey,” he said. “No offense, but why are you back?”

Harry looked up at him, and he looked miserable. There were circles under his eyes, and he generally looked exhausted.“I just want to talk.” 

Zayn stared at him. “Okay, but I hope you understand why I don’t want to let you into my house.” Harry looked at the sidewalk. “If you really want to talk, then let’s go to the caff again. Is that okay?” 

Harry looked back up at him, and seemed mollified by that. “I can even pay this time,” he said as he stood up. “Let’s go.” Zayn took a deep breath, and walked with Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry said when they sat down. He didn’t look up, just ordered a glass of water and a cup of tea. “I’m sorry. But I don’t have any friends. You’re the only person I can talk to right now.” Harry looked up then. “You really helped me When I got back the next morning, my ex and his boyfriend had taken what they could and left. I got the locks changed and threw their things out on the street, what was left.”

“Good,” Zayn said. “But I’m sorry you lost your things. Are they insured?”

Harry’s eyes brimmed over with tears. “They took my artwork,” he said, and Zayn reached for his hand. “I don’t have a lot, just a few small pieces. They took them all. They’re insured, but it’s not the same.” 

Zayn squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I can paint you something if you want. I’d like for you to have it.” 

“That’s very kind.” Harry sipped his tea. “I really scared you, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Zayn said, without anger or fear in his voice. “What happened with that?” 

“I was about half-asleep, and I got the idea to go in there. It was like sleepwalking, but I remembered it. I went to the mental health center, and I had to make an appointment. They couldn’t see me right away. I’m afraid I’ll just forget it by the time it finally comes round.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Zayn said. “I don’t know what to say. Have you ever seen a doctor for this before?” 

“When I was young,” He said, playing with his napkin. “I was strange, quirky, and it went further than just being eccentric. So my parents sent me to all kind of professionals-therapists, tutors, people who mirrored normal social behavior so I could pick up on it. It really did help.” 

“Huh. Did they think you were on the autism spectrum? Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.”

“They tested me and I was sort of borderline. But as I got older, I started having other problems.” Harry looked up at him. “I would like a sandwich. You can order something if you like, my treat.” 

“Well. All right. I haven’t eaten since lunch.” Harry signaled for the waitress, and they both ordered. Zayn got a burger, Harry a cheese sandwich.”Do you think you can get help?” 

“I hope so. I could ask my parents to help, but they have enough. I did tell mum that I went, she was very happy.” Harry sipped his tea. “She thought my ex was a bad influence on me. He was into natural methods, you know.” 

“I see,” Zayn said. “Well, maybe that’s good in some cases, but from what I’ve seen, you might need more help. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.” Harry shook his head. “Good. Why did you want to see me again? You said you talked to your mother.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he leaned in. “You’re gay, right?”

Zayn stared at him. “How did you know?”

Harry smiled a little. “You like to dance at straight bars, but you don’t do anything else. You work in the arts, you take care of yourself. And I promise I didn’t pry, but there’s a picture in your apartment.”

Zayn had to concede that one. “Louis. My ex. He’s a great person, but not the one for me.” He knew the picture. Louis and him had their arms around each other. He still got random texts from Louis as he tried out life on the other side of the world, but he hadn’t really seen him. 

“I’m glad you don’t hate him,” Harry said, and smiled when they got their food. “I guess I just thought I’d try seeing you again. If you don’t mind.”

Zayn thought that maybe he did mind. Harry was beautiful, but unstable. He didn’t really seem like he was in shape to date anyone. “You don’t really know me,” Zayn said. “We met once when you were in a really bad place. I like seeing you, and having dinner with you now, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

Harry glared at him. “Maybe I just want a friend too, you know. My ex really kept me from making other friends. So now I want some. I’m not asking you to go to bed with me.” Harry picked up a chip and ate it without looking at Zayn. 

“Sorry. I misunderstood.” Harry nodded. “Maybe we could meet up like this every week or so.” Somewhere public.

“Not at your house.” Harry glared at him. 

“Maybe not now,” he said. “I’m sorry. It was frightening.” 

“I’m having trouble telling where people are being sensible and having boundaries and if people are being insulting,” Harry said. “But I think you’re doing the first. Maybe.” Zayn was glad that Harry seemed to accept his terms even if he didn’t agree with them. 

“Just give me some time,” Zayn said. “I had only met you that first night so I didn’t know what you were capable of. I still don’t.”

“Fair point,” Harry said, still sounding cross, and they were quiet for a few minutes. “You know,” Harry said. “I hate working for my parents, but at least it seems to be keeping me grounded. I’m just capable of showing up to work and doing my job. I’m shit at everything else.” 

“Honestly, I feel the same way sometimes,” Zayn said. “I’m not good with relationships.” 

“No,” Harry said. “Me either.” Then Harry stood up. “I have to go home and make a list of everything those fuckers took,” he said. “I was crying too hard to do it earlier. Can I get your number?” Zayn told him the number, and then he got Harry’s. “Good. See you next week.” He went up to the waitress with his card, and paid for everything. Then he left Zayn to finish his burger alone. 

Zayn did start to hear from Harry on a fairly routine basis. Once or twice a week he’d get a text, or an invitation to hang out, and they would go get dinner. One time they went to a tea shop with nice desserts, and Zayn watched while Harry had crème brulee for dinner. 

“Having a sweets attack?” Harry looked at him and smiled. He seemed more relaxed lately.

“They’re trying me on a new medication. For some reason, I’m craving carbs. I might gain a lot of weight, so be warned.” 

“You should be careful, those medications can be bad for your blood sugar. I’m not saying don’t take them”-Harry was already glaring at him-”But try to contain the cravings if you can.” 

“I might could use a few pounds to be honest,” Harry said. “I didn’t eat a lot before. They’re trying to address a lot of things. It’s not easy.” Harry played with his dessert spoon. “I told them, about how I scared you. They think I’m having some psychotic episodes. It’s not fun to hear that.” 

Zayn reached over and touched Harry’s hand. “I know it wasn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry, that must have been so hard for you.” Harry looked up and nodded, tears in his eyes. “Have you heard from the insurance?” He said, to change the subject.

“Yes. I got the money for them, which wasn’t a lot. They were original pieces, but new artists. I might try to get something else.” 

Zayn squeezed Harry’s hand before pulling back. “Maybe I can help you find something.” 

“That would be lovely,” Harry said. “I need to eat something that isn’t sweets for dinner. Do you want anything else?” Zayn shook his head. “Okay.” Then he ordered a bowl of soup. Zayn sipped another cup of tea and let Harry eat.

“I’ve got a new friend,” Zayn said to his mum during their weekly phone call. “He’s a good bloke.” Zayn wasn’t sure what else he could say about Harry. “He’s nice.”

“Are you dating him?” Tricia wasn’t bad about him dating boys, nobody in the family was really.

“No. We just go to dinner once a week.” Then Zayn changed the subject and that was that.

When he saw Harry again, he did look fuller in the face. But he seemed okay, better emotionally. He told more stories and rambled for a while. Zayn just listened, until Harry asked him how he was.

“I’m fine. I just have nothing to say. Most of my friends are out of town, so you’re about the only person I see.” 

Harry frowned. “That doesn’t seem right. You don’t have anyone else?”

“In town. I moved here a few years ago. Easier to find something with my degree than in Bradford, yeah? I love it there, but what can you do. Got to do where the galleries are.” 

“Suppose so,” Harry said. “I moved here when my parents did, so really it’s like things never changed. I just stay basically where they are. At least I don’t live with them.” 

“That’s good,” Zayn said. “At least you have that.” 

“I wanted a lot more,” Harry said, and pushed away his plate. “I don’t want to eat any more. My appetite is finally leveling off. Maybe next time we meet, we can do something else. Like maybe a movie.”

“That would be good,” Zayn agreed. Harry nodded, and then got up. “You’re going home?”

“Yeah. Restless.” Zayn said goodbye and then watched him leave. He hoped Harry was okay.

The next time Zayn and Harry met up, they did go to a movie theater. “Hey,” Zayn said as they sat waiting for whatever art flick this was to start. “How are you doing. With, you know. The cutting.”

Harry sighed and slumped down. “I’m not sure how to answer that,” he said. “I want to, but I can hold off unless I’m really stressed. The pills are helping, I guess. It’s hard to stop. Even the mental health people say so.”

“Why is it hard?” Zayn didn’t have any experience with this at all. 

“Because...you get a rush from doing it. The endorphins kick in. They actually told me to take up running instead. Same payoff. But it takes a lot longer. With a razor blade, it only takes a few seconds.” Harry got his popcorn and nibbled on it. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I guess,” Zayn said. Then the lights went off and Zayn turned his attention to the screen. 

Halfway through the movie, Zayn felt Harry put his hand over Zayn’s. Zayn didn’t look over, but he didn’t move his hand either. Harry left it for a few minutes, and then he let go. 

When they parted for the night, Harry said “I’ll see you next week,” and didn’t mention it. Zayn couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or not. 

It was a couple of weeks later that Zayn was home, exhausted, when he got a call from Harry. “I need to talk to someone. Can we go out?” Harry sounded on edge, and Zayn straightened up in the chair he was slumped in. 

“Harry, I don’t think I can go anywhere. I can barely move. Can we do this some other time?” Zayn didn’t mean to leave Harry hanging, but he had no energy and no desire to leave his place. 

“I...I just want to talk.” Harry said, plaintive. Zayn let out a deep breath.

“Do you want to come over? You remember where I live?” 

“Yeah,’ Harry said. Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Zayn said. “Knock loud in case I’m asleep.” Then Harry said goodbye and Zayn waited. 

Harry was there about thirty minutes later, and Zayn was asleep. He woke up to knocking and stumbled to the door. Harry came in, looking tired himself, and disheveled. “Thanks,” Harry said, and he sat down on the couch. Zayn sat next to him. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I told you to,” Zayn said, and Harry almost smiled. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s just been a hard week,” Harry said. “I pressed charges against my ex and his boyfriend for taking my things. Luckily I had pictures of my paintings and things. So I had something to give them. But...they can’t find them.” 

“At least you’re trying to hold them responsible,” Zayn said, and yawned. “I’m sorry Harry. I’m really not in any shape to talk-” Then he had to stop, because Harry was kissing him. 

Zayn put a hand on Harry’s back automatically, even though he wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Harry’s kiss was clumsy and a little desperate. When Harry pulled back, Zayn rubbed between his should blades, then withdrew his hand. 

“That was too much, wasn’t it?” Harry looked crushed, and Zayn thought he was far too tired for this.

“I’m not sure what I want now,” was what he said. His fear of Harry and his unpredictable actions was mostly gone. “I’m all right, I’m not angry, I don’t think you’ll hurt me. But if we do this, I want to be sure. Yeah?” 

“I suppose,” Harry said, not looking at him. He seemed to be closing off, and Zayn didn’t know what to do. So he reached out for Harry’s hand. “Why are you doing that?”

“Because I worry about you,” Zayn said. “I don’t want you to go home and cut yourself because of me. Just because I’m fucked up, doesn’t mean you should suffer.”

“You’re not fucked up though, I know fucked up.” Harry pulled his hand back. “You just don’t want me, or you don’t want me enough. That’s okay. I’ll text you later. Go to bed.” Then Harry was out of the apartment and down the street before he knew it. 

It was two weeks before Zayn heard or saw from Harry again. He was worried, but didn’t know what to do. He didn’t actually know where Harry lived. He knew he worked for his parents, but nothing more about them. He sent a few texts, but got no answer. 

Finally, there was an answering text. **Spent some time in the country, step-dad’s place. Feel better now. How are you?** As far as things went, it was a bit cold and impersonal, but Zayn was thrilled that Harry seemed okay.

 **Good. Worried. Would like to see if if you want.** There was a long pause.

**I don’t think I can see you now,** Harry typed, and Zayn’s heart sank. **But I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. See you later.**

**Bye.** Zayn put his phone down. He didn’t think Harry would get back in touch with him. He curled up on his couch, and though about how lonely things were. He hadn’t gone dancing in weeks, he had nobody in town to talk to. Without meaning to, Harry had become the focus of his life. 

Well, Harry had every right not to see him. He was going to have to figure out a way to keep going. But...he had promised Harry a painting. 

Zayn got a sketchbook that was nearby, and started doodling some ideas. He’d make it a good one, even if he had no idea where to send it. He’d find Harry when he was done, he was sure of it. 

****

****

For the next two weeks, Zayn spent his non-work time putting together a painting to give to Harry. He had a work space in a room behind the gallery, and stayed there after work. He planned it out, and at first tried to make something he thought Harry would like. He had no idea how he decorated his flat, so he finally decided not to worry about it, and just make what he liked. 

When he was done, he had a smaller piece than he normally made, and in blues and greens more than his usual black and red. But it was still in his style, and looked like something someone would have in their space, something for home. 

Zayn took a deep breath. Now he had to get it to Harry. 

Sometimes, going with the simplest method is the best. Harry had told him where he worked, and one day, Zayn walked down there with the painting and a note. He went to the receptionist and said “Morning. I want to leave this with you. It’s for Harry Styles.” 

“Oh. Was he expecting this?” Zayn shook his head. “Oh. Well then. I’ll keep it back here, give it to him later.” 

“That’s fine. Thank you.” Zayn didn’t expect to see Harry. Then he turned and left, heading towards his job. He’d probably never see Harry again, but he kept his word. And he didn’t get security called on him either. 

That night, he got a called from Harry. “Thank you,” Harry said. “Why did you do that?” 

“I promised you a painting. If you don’t want to contact me again, I understand. But I wanted you to have it.” 

There was a long silence. “Thank you,” Harry said. “That was the last thing I expected. It’s nice. It’s nice to remember that people can be kind.” 

“Good,” Zayn said. “I never wanted to hurt you, Harry. You have too much already.” Harry chuckled, as if he didn’t know what else to do. “How are you?” 

“The couple of weeks off in the country helped. And so did staying on my medication. My stepfather didn’t like me taking a sudden vacation much, but I’m making it up now. Been working hard.” Harry paused. “I’ve missed you. I know you don’t want me, but I still do.” 

“I never said I didn’t want you, I just didn’t know what to do with it. How far to take it. I haven’t done much since Louis left me.” Louis, who walked out on him and moved to Sydney without much warning. “And I worried. That maybe...you weren’t stable enough.” 

“I suppose I can’t blame you,” Harry said. “But...I get to decide that, not you. I’m the one with the conditions. I guess...I’d like to come over. If you don’t want anything serious or don’t want to label it, that’s fine with me.” 

“I’d love to see you Harry. Yeah, come over.” Zayn still felt some apprehension. Part of it was because of his breakup with Louis, some of it was because of how fragile Harry was. But mostly, he was glad Harry was giving him another chance. 

When Zayn heard a knock, he opened the door to find Harry standing there, with a nervous smirk on his face. Zayn pulled him in right away, hugging him in the doorway. “Come in. Do you want anything? I have some weed.” Zayn liked to smoke a few times a week. 

Harry shook his head. “It’s not good for me. Messes with my head. But I’d like some water.” Zayn let go and went to the kitchen. Harry followed him. Zayn handed him a bottle and Harry drank it there. “Thanks.” There was a short silence. 

After a minute, Zayn started to feel a bit anxious. The silence made him nervous, even though Harry seemed to be happy to be there. “Want to sit in the living room? We can watch something if you-” That was as far as he got before Harry kissed him. 

Zayn cupped Harry’s face as they kissed, then pulled him in closer. They kissed in the kitchen for long minutes, then Harry pulled back and kissed his cheek. “Sweet,” he said. “We can sit in your living room if you want. Or we can go back to the bedroom. Whatever you want.” 

Zayn looked at Harry. He looked healthy and in control. He knew what he was doing. Zayn took his hand, and they went back to his room. Harry kissed him again, then pulled back. “If I take my shirt off, will it upset you too much?” 

“I don’t know.” Zayn had forgotten about that. “Do you have a vest on?” Harry nodded. “Maybe just that. If it’s okay. I don’t want to upset you.” 

“I don’t really enjoy looking at them either,” Harry said, and he gracefully removed his shirt, keeping the vest on. Zayn could see the marks on his arms, but most of them looked old. He broke his gaze so he could get his own shirt off. 

“You look amazing,” Harry said. “You’re so handsome. That’s why I had to try, you know. Even if you didn’t like me.” 

“I do like you,” Zayn said. “You don’t need to dwell on that, I’m sorry. What did you have in mind for tonight? Is there anything I should know?” 

“Maybe snog first, blowjobs if it’s good,” Harry said, and he took off his trousers, leaving the pants on. Harry’s legs were skinny, but nice. No marks there, either. “I’m negative, if that’s what you mean. Got a clean bill of health far as that’s concerned.” 

“Good. Me too.” Zayn got on the bed, still with his pants on. Harry followed him, and they kissed for a few minutes. Harry was a good kisser, and he liked to press close. Zayn liked the closeness, and rubbed a hand over Harry’s back, through his vest. 

Harry made a noise that sounded like a purr, then he giggled. “You’re really nice. Do you want more?” 

“Yeah.” Zayn laid on his back, and Harry got on top. “Um, I like it when someone else is in control. But I don’t like pain. So um…” 

“Got it.” Harry moved against him then, and Zayn could feel Harry’s cock against his leg. “Just lie back then.” Harry kissed over Zayn’s jaw, and kept moving against him, insistent, while Zayn closed his eyes. 

After a minute, Harry stopped and Zayn opened his eyes, frowning. “Where’s your lube?” Harry said, a smile wicked smile on his face. “Wanted to get my hand on your cock.” 

Zayn grinned too, and shoved his pants down. “In the drawer.” Harry got some and squeezed it on his hand. Zayn laid back as Harry straddled him, hand on his dick. From there, it didn’t take long as Harry brought him off in a few minutes. 

“Shit. Been a while,” Zayn said, and Harry cleaned up with some wet wipes Zayn had. “What do you want?” 

“Well,” Harry said, and looked Zayn over. “Maybe you just give me a hand too.” Zayn nodded, and got the lube. 

Harry wasn’t loud, but he did make a lot of noise. Most of it was whispered, or moans in Zayn’s ear as he touched him. Harry lasted longer than he did, but soon enough Harry was biting his neck as he came. Zayn pulled on his hair, and when Harry was facing him, kissed him hard. 

After they cleaned up, Harry sat on the edge of the bed, not looking at Zayn. “Hey.” Zayn sat next to him. “What’s wrong? I thought everything was okay.” 

“I guess…I just thought you might be throwing me out now. If you didn’t want to sleep in the same bed with me, I would understand. I know I scared you.” Zayn watched as Harry pressed a thumb into the scars on his arm. Zayn took his hand. 

“You can stay if you want. I won’t throw you out. If you don’t want to stay, that’s fine. But you can if you want.” Zayn knew Harry wasn’t 100% better, but he trusted him to make it through the night. 

“Yeah?” Zayn nodded. Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I think I’ll stay.” Then he got up and went to the bathroom. Zayn got into bed and turned the light off. He heard Harry bump into something and ‘oof’, then he felt him get into bed. 

“Sorry. Clumsy.” Harry spooned behind him. 

“It’s okay. Get some rest.” Zayn closed his eyes. He had work tomorrow. Harry probably did too. They needed to sleep. Harry curled in closer, and Zayn drifted off. 

The next morning, he woke up and the bed was empty. He thought about how Harry had disappeared the first night he stayed, and figured he might have run. Then he heard something hit the kitchen floor. Zayn got his robe on, and found Harry staring at a fork. 

“Hey,” he said, smiling. Harry looked fine, not like he was about to run. “Need another fork?” 

“I was just trying to fix breakfast,” Harry said, mournful. “I wasn’t even looking for a fork yet.” 

“I don’t eat a lot in the morning,” Zayn said. “And I’ve got to be at work. Do you?” 

“Yeah.” Harry looked far away, and still a bit sad. Zayn picked the fork up, threw it in the sink, and gave Harry a careful hug. “I’m sorry,” Harry whispered into Zayn’s neck. “I’m crap at morning afters.” 

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Zayn said. “I liked having you over, I like your company. We can do it again this week if you want. You’re nice to have around, Harry.” He gave Harry a soft kiss, and Harry seemed to relax a little. “But we have to be adults now. There’s some cereal, or I can make toast. Do you want a shower first?” 

“No fun, showering alone,” Harry said, and then smiled. “Fix me some toast? I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Then Harry pecked him on the cheek, and left the kitchen. 

Zayn put the kettle on, and got some tea and jam. He wasn’t looking forward to his job, but he was looking forward to seeing Harry again. 


End file.
